


To You, My Past

by KentuckyTheFried



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Heavy Angst, Mental Instability, Nightmares, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 02:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19879855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KentuckyTheFried/pseuds/KentuckyTheFried
Summary: Basically my PC (high elf rogue named Mira) has a really fucked up nightmare that's based on events from his past, another piece that's here for archival purposes xD





	To You, My Past

**Author's Note:**

> Ayy, another archive piece that I actually wrote a few months ago for my writing class ~
> 
> Backstory for this is simple, my DM likes giving the PCs cool dreams after some sessions and I decided to try one for myself with my high elf rogue, Mira. Hope you enjoy!!

He found himself deep in the unconscious void almost as soon as he closed his eyes. In this world, shifting and formless, nothing was to be trusted, for nothing could be proven real. Though distant from his own, this plane was capable of spinning tales of the past, tales of the future if he was lucky enough to decipher them. They tried to convince him that they were real, but they were only figments now. They held no power over his waking mind.

That was what Mira tried to believe, in any case.

But in recent nights his dreams had found parts of his reality to grab on to. They were no longer full fledged fantasies, but half formed, inspired and guided by events of his distant past. There were too many parts of his past that made for better nightmares than dreams, however, and when they did come to pass Mira would find himself waking up in a cold sweat. He had no idea what lay in store for him tonight, and he mumbled a silent plea for sweet dreams before letting his eyes close.

The plane of dreams contorted around him, mystical swirls of blues and purples pulsating with green light. The dream Mira held his breath, though it didn’t matter. Dreams didn’t need air to breathe, they only needed roots to grow off of. Shame he had plenty of those in the wrong places.

The dream placed him...in his house. In his bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of his mattress, feet dangling off of the edge, barely able to touch the wooden floor below. There was a door to his right, the door to the hallway. A sliver of light, a sliver of hope for a pleasant dream, discovered the space between the floor and the door. And from outside, he heard his mother, a soft and soothing voice that had put him to sleep numerous times before.

And another voice soon joined hers - that of his father. This one was not soothing, not soft. It was a sharpened knife, with thorns decorated around its hilt, craving blood, craving death. Mira’s mother went silent as his father’s voice grew louder, louder, preparing to strike. Mira could hear the knife sharpening with every octave it grew. He placed his feet on the ground and walked towards the door, his footsteps silent and unsuspecting.

And when he placed his hand on the cool doorknob, his mother screamed.

It was cut off with gargled noises, a loud thump onto the wooden floor. 

Where there had been light under the doorframe, now there trickled something darker. Mira saw red overtake yellow, stepping back, back, feeling his breaths grow shallow -

The door opened.

There he stood. Mira’s father. The physical manifestation of his voice lay in his right hand, covered in red. And just past his form lay a body in the hallway.

Mira screamed. 

His father smiled.

“You never learn. I told you I’d punish you if you didn’t do as you were told.”

His father took one step forward, and Mira took one step backward. His heel bumped into a wall - no, how?! He wasn’t that close to -

“You’re a mistake. Thankfully mistakes can be erased.”

Mira was choking back tears. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t hide, not even when his father began to shift into a larger form. Dark, scaled,  _ green _ . The knife was raised, brought down -

And Mira woke up. 

He panicked, grabbed at his chest, eyes darting across the room to look for the light under the door or the body or...no, there was nothing. The dream had tricked him again. 

Mira got up, rubbing his eyes. When his hands pulled away, he discovered the tears had followed him to the material plane. He took a deep breath, his gaze stopping on his roommate, Ravos, who was still fast asleep.  _ Always was a deep sleeper,  _ Mira thought.  _ I wonder what he dreams about. _

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to stick around to find out. Ravos be better off without Mira in his life. After all, he was just a mistake.

And thankfully, mistakes could be erased.


End file.
